Little Sherlock
by supremegreendragon
Summary: Moriarty turned Sherlock into a three-year-old so that he would be easier to kill. But the plan backfired. He's too cute to kill! Now Sherlock has to deal with being babied by practically everyone. He has got to turn back! No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Warning! Crack fic ahead. Absolutely nothing is to be taken seriously. If taken seriously I am not responsible or any deaths, injuries or 'wft' inquiries the audience may have. Thank you and have a good day.

Note: This is an older fic

* * *

The two faced each other only a few feet apart. The abandoned warehouse was warm, with an irritating buzzing sound coming from overhead.

James smiled cheerfully/wickedly at his adversary. Sherlock had the gun pointing right at the other man's forehead.

"It's over Moriarty. Give it up."

"How 'bout no?" Moriarty retorted slyly, "Why don't I just kill you instead?"

"And how do you think you're going to kill me? I'm the one with the gun."

Moriarty's eyes flashed in excitement. Not a good sign.

"But I'm the one with the de-aging gun!"

And suddenly the villain pulled out the most bizarre looking gun from out of nowhere. It was so weird looking that Sherlock had to bite his lips to keep from laughing.

"And now to tell you my entire plan and motives right before I kill you. Just like in the movies! Every villain has to do that, you know? So anyway! With this de-aging gun, I will turn you into a helpless three year old. Then your strength will be no match for mine. I'll strangle you to death."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. Turn him into a three year old. Right. Like that's even possible.

Moriarty decided he didn't want to bother telling anymore so he just fired the gun at once. A bright rainbow colored beam shot out and hit its target. In the next instant, Sherlock was looking up at the other man who somehow became a lot bigger within seconds.

It took a moment for it to register inside Sherlock's head that the gun had worked. He was now in the body of a three year old. His clothes somehow shrank to fit his body (something he was grateful for. Nothing's more embarrassing than being a child and naked in front of your greatest enemy) and the gun he was holding had disappeared completely.

Was this the end? How could Sherlock fight him now? Moriarty was staring at him. He was no longer smiling. Instead, there was an expression on his face that Sherlock couldn't read.

The villain rushed forward without warning. Sherlock didn't have time to react. His entire life flashed before his eyes. This was it. Moriarty was going to strangle his fragile three-year-old neck.

Moriarty did grab him but not by the neck. His hands clutched his arms. Sherlock was confused by the look Moriarty was giving him now.

"Oh my god," he said slowly, "You're so CUTE!"

Ouch. Sherlock's poor eardrum. But he didn't have time to worry about that. He was suddenly lifted up and being carried by his smiling enemy.

"Cute cute cute cute! How cute!" he chanted hysterically.

Sherlock struggled to get out of this crazy man's grasp.

"Moriarty? What the hell! Weren't you going to kill me like- four seconds ago?"

"I changed my mind. Now I'm going to adopt you instead! I'm going to be your daddy and teach you all you need to know about being an oppressive ruler of the world. Doesn't that sound nice? I bet you're already excited."

The three year old felt his jaw drop. Moriarty's legs started moving but the man wasn't looking where he was going. His whole attention was on the boy in his arms.

"Moriarty. Listen to me," time to reason with the crazy man, "You need help. What kind of drugs are you taking? Something more potent than what I am, obviously."

Moriarty's lips curled into a disapproving frown.

"No sir, Mr. Sherlock Moriarty."

"...Sherlock Moriarty!"

"You're not taking any drugs. Not until you're fourteen. Now daddy has to go bomb a few people so you be a good boy and stay in this room until I get back."

The room they had just entered was at the very top floor. There was a sheet-less mattress, a bathroom and a television. The television was perched on a counter that Sherlock was now too short to reach.

Moriarty shut the door and set Sherlock down on the filthy mattress. He smiled at his new 'son' before turning on the television. He changed the channel to a little kids' show with an animated tiger eating his vegetables.

"Remember kids. If a carnivore like me can eat his veggies, then so can you!"

This had to be a joke, Sherlock decided. Surely Moriarty wasn't seriously going to leave him here with this kind of torture. Not even he was that cruel.

...Right?

Moriarty walked towards the door. Sherlock grabbed his leg.

"Wait wait! You can't be serious! You're not seriously going to leave me with no way of changing the channel?"

"Aww. You're already missing daddy!" Moriarty seemed genuinely touched.

He patted Sherlock on the head once, snuck out the door and locked it before Sherlock could stop him. Sherlock banged on the door, pleading for the other man to come to his senses until the footsteps faded away.

Now he was alone. And dear god! The tiger was now playing hop-scotch with a lamb. There were so many things wrong with that! Sherlock had to make his escape!


	2. Chapter 2

The cartoon bird was holding a piece of paper with its wing, which was beyond the capabilities of its anatomy. What kind of nonsense crap were children exposed to these days?

The bird was standing by four poorly-drawn potatoes. It looked towards the audience.

"Alright kids. We need four potatoes for our potato soup. How many do we have right now?"

"Four," Sherlock mumbled grimly.

"Let's count and see!"

The three year old swore under his breath. He just had to get out! For the millionth time he began searching the room for a way.

"One...two...three...four. We have four. And how many did we need again?"

Dammit! Sherlock wanted to rip his head off and throw it against the wall. He had to make his escape before this show got any more idiotic.

"Four! Now let's sing the enchanted cooking song to make our soup taste magical!"

The three year old let out a scream in frustration before running around the room in circles. Yes, he had officially lost it.

Something caught his eye on the floor by the mattress and it caused him to stop. A hairpin! How did he not notice that?

He imagined the sounds of angels signing 'Hallelujah,' which was much more pleasing than the actual sounds of the bird singing 'Magic Soup' in its high-pitched voice.

Sherlock grab the hairpin with his tiny hand and rushed towards the door. As embarrassing as it was, he had to stand on tiptoes to reach the handle and lock. He stuck his tongue out in concentration until-

Click.

"YES!"

The door opened. Sherlock wasted no time in getting out of there, rushing out of the warehouse in glee.

When his joy died down, Sherlock was calm enough to think. How was he going to change back? He was walking down the street when a familiar car drove up beside him and a familiar someone stepped out.

Oh dear god. How was he going to explain this one?

"Sherlock?" Mycroft had never sounded more confused.

The three year old groaned. He stopped walking and nodded at his older brother.

"Yes, I know. Don't say anything."

The other man made his way over, peering down at his 'little' brother.

"What happened?"

"Moriarty," Sherlock answered darkly.

After explaining, Mycroft hummed in thought. Sherlock decided that (God-forbid) he might need Mycroft's help for this one.

"Can you give me a ride to Baker Street? If Moriarty can get his hands on a de-aging gun then perhaps I can invent something to turn me back to normal if I experiment enough."

Mycroft answered without hesitation and, strangely enough, with a smile.

"Of course, baby brother. Hop on in."

"I'm not a baby," little did Sherlock know that denying it only made him look cuter.

He had managed to get in without Mycroft's help. Mycroft sat by him and whispered something to the driver. The car began moving.

"What did you just say to him?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

"I just told him where we're headed."

There was a silence after that. It was an awfully awkward silence, considering that Mycroft never once stopped smiling down at Sherlock. The three year old shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. It's just been so long since I got to see you like this. I forgot how cute you were and drug-free too."

"Yeah well, don't get use to it."

"Hey, why don't we take this opportunity to do something together? You know, just the two of us?"

A feeling of dread began to crept inside Sherlock's adorable little belly. That didn't sound good. Mycroft was trying to bond with him now that he was a child again?

For the love of God, he wasn't trying to make up for lost time and start their relationship over in a desperate attempt to become close, was he? Couldn't he see that it was way too late for that? The sibling rivalry damage had already been done.

"I just want to go back to my flat. Nothing else."

"Why don't I take you to the park?"

"For what?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Well, there's a a nice playground that you might enjoy. And it is a nice day out today."

Was Mycroft trying to add insult to injury? Surely he figured out that Sherlock was still an adult mentally. There was a lot of strange things Sherlock liked to do but playing in the sandbox wasn't one of them.

The car suddenly turned and headed the completely opposite direction of where Sherlock wanted it to go. The feeling of dread intensified.

"Mycroft, please don't do this. I was already forced to watch a child's television show and I don't want anymore torture. No park!"

Mycroft lowered his head in defeat.

"Fine then."

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief. But then Mycroft had to continue.

"How about the zoo? We'll see the pretty flamingos!"

No! Sherlock could not believe his brother was serious. But as luck would have it the next thing he knew, they were in the zoo parking lot.

The idea that he was actually going to a zoo which smelled and had screaming kids everywhere burned inside Sherlock's brain. He looked at his brother pleadingly.

"Mycroft, if you let me go home in peace right now then I'll promise I'll never to shoot up any illegal drug again. Please Mycroft! Don't do this!"

The car stopped and Mycroft stepped out. He took Sherlock out the car and began carrying the boy to the front gates. The receptionist at the ticket booth smiled at him.

"Oh, aren't you a cutie. Are you here to see the animals with your dad, sweetie?" she asked cooingly.

Maybe he would've been better off dealing with the bloody cartoon...


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't matter how much Sherlock struggled in his brother's arms. There was no way he could escape. Frustrated, Sherlock huffed in defeat, crossed his arms and pouted.

Mycroft smiled knowingly and smugly.

"Don't be like that, baby brother. Look! There's the flamingos."

Mycroft held the boy in his arms above the cage so that Sherlock could get a clear view. Yep. Those were flamingos alright. And they were standing. Standing. Standing very still...

"Well this has been fun," Sherlock muttered sarcastically, "Now can you let me go home?"

"No. Now what animal should we see next?"

The older man's iron grip effectively kept Sherlock in place. Mycroft didn't wait for him to answer. He walked over to the next cage.

"Oh look! Zebras!"

There was only one way out of this. Mycroft was obviously not going to let Sherlock go anytime soon. So Sherlock had to outsmart him. Now to think of some elaborate and well-thought-out, ingenious plan...

"I'm gonna' vomit!"

Bingo. Mycroft's fear of grotesque things caused his reflexes to let the boy drop to the ground. Sherlock landed skillfully on his feet. He ran through crowded mass of people, deliberately loosing himself in it so Mycroft couldn't follow.

Sherlock darted towards the front gate. There was security there, so he had to stop and ponder his next move. He didn't count on a figure coming up from behind and grabbing him. Sherlock cried out.

"No! Let me go Mycroft!"

"There you are! You had daddy worried!"

The three year old felt his blood run cold. That wasn't Mycroft's voice. He slowly turned his head to look at his captor. James was smiling at him. Then the villain frowned. Typical mood changes, this one had.

"You ran away Sherlock. That was very bad. I thought something terrible might have happened to you."

This was so not Sherlock's day. James carried him out of the zoo while telling him that he wasn't ever going to be allowed to watch the telly by himself in an old abandoned warehouse that was on the verge of falling apart again.

Suddenly, a car drove up to them. The front window rolled down and revealed the confused face of Molly.

"Jim? What-? That kid! He looks just like Sherlock."

"I am Sherlock. Your demented homosexual boyfriend turned me into a three year old," Sherlock grunted.

"And that's when I adopted him," James finished with a smile.

For some reason, Molly didn't mention Sherlock's homosexual comment. She blushed.

"And I thought you were cute as an adult! Look at you! So cute! Like the pillsbury doughboy! If I touch your belly will you giggle?"

She pointed an index finger at the boy in Moriarty's arms, gently giving Sherlock a poke on the belly. The simple poke really did tickle and Sherlock couldn't prevent a slight chuckle from escaping his mouth. Great. One more thing to add to his list of complete shame in one day.

The chuckle sounded like a cute giggle to the adults; they both 'aww'ed. Sherlock glared and began struggling in Moriarty's grasp.

"Let me go! I just want to go home."

Moriarty shifted the boy in his arms so that he was carrying Sherlock bridal-style. This had terrible consequences for Sherlock since he now had no choice but to look at the crazy man's cheerful face.

"Of course Sherlock. Daddy will be glad to take you home. And when we get there we can have ourselves something to eat."

"I'll be happy to drive you," Molly offered.

Moriarty took a moment to consider. He really didn't want Molly to think she could spend time with Sherlock. That would be sharing his son with her. And if there was one thing he was bad at, it was sharing. As a matter of fact he got on F on his report card for not sharing in kindergarten.

On the other hand, he didn't want to walk all the way. And none of his minions knew how to drive properly for the life of them.

"I'll take you up on the offer. Let's go Sherlock. You'll need to sit on my lap because there's no car seat for you."

"I don't need a car seat!"

"Of course you don't," Molly cooed with a blush on her cheeks, "Because you're such a big boy, aren't you?"

"For the love of God! Someone help me!"

Sherlock's prayers were answered. Mycroft was now approaching them with a scowl on his face.

"Alright, you two need to let him go or I'll report you for attempted kidnapping."

Moriarty only held on tighter, causing Sherlock discomfort.

"I can't kidnap him if he's my son."

"The only family he has in this amusement park is me," Mycroft pointed his umbrella at Moriarty accusingly.

"You've had thirty-six years to bond with him now it's my turn! Come on Sherlock! Daddy's had enough of this."

No! Mycroft had to save him! He just had to!

"That boy is coming with me. And you're getting a one way ticket to the nut house. You can't just turn your enemies into three year olds and then try to adopt them, weirdo."

Yes! For once, Sherlock agreed with his brother.

"And when I take Sherlock home to my mansion, we're going to watch Yogi Bear," Mycroft announced, "No child can resist a smarter-than-the-average bear."

The bubble of hope burst inside Sherlock's chest. He yelled again.

"Someone help me! Someone besides my asshole of a brother!"

"Sherlock? What the bloody hell is going on here?"

That voice. That heavenly voice. Sherlock and everyone else turned their attention to John Watson, who had just walked up to them with Sarah lagging behind.

It must have been a weird sight for him, seeing how Sherlock was now a toddler and being cradled by his enemy in front of a car belonging to Molly and Mycroft glaring at both of them.

Sarah sighed.

"Honestly John. Why does our date have to be ruined by an impossible supernatural circumstance? I'm leaving until your flat-mate stops being a child. Literally," and she walked off before the doctor could stop her.


	4. Chapter 4

"John! Thank God! You've got to help me. All these people are insane!" Sherlock cried out, instinctively reaching out his grubby little hands for the doctor.

Molly gave him a strange look.

"Someone's awfully grumpy. Do you need a n-a-p?" she spelled out the last word as if Sherlock wouldn't be able to catch it.

The three year old glared daggers at her and folded his arms.

"No I don't need a n-a-p," he spelled it out just to mock her, "What I need is to go back to my flat with John."

Moriarty shook his head and made a 'tsk tsk' sound.

"You're too young to have your own flat Sherlock. You're going to live with me, your father."

John stood with a perplexed look. He walked forward.

"Wait a minute. You're not his father."

The villain frowned at him.

"Of course I am. I adopted him after all."

"You mean you already signed the papers and everything?"

This time it was Moriarty who was confused.

"The wha-?"

John blinked at him.

"The adoption papers. You know, the things you need to adopt."

Moriarty had never looked more at a loss. John felt awkward having to clarify something like this to someone who's suppose to be a genius.

"You can't just grab a random child off the street and call him your son," he sighed, "You need custody rights."

Mycroft took this opportunity to step in.

"That's correct. And since I'm the only one here who's actually family to Sherlock, I should be the one to take care of him. So hand him over."

Sherlock was about to make a snide remark about dieting when he was cut off by Moriarty. The villain's grasped tightened into a protective manner.

"Oh no you don't! Maybe I'm not his father legally but since when do I give a damn about legal stuff? He's coming home with me! We're going to have pizza, then I'm going to teach him how to best punish minions who fail at their task. AND NO ONE WILL STOP ME!"

"I'm gonna' vomit!"

"EWW!" Moriarty screeched like a little girl and dropped Sherlock on the ground.

The itty-bitty detective sprinted towards John, his only ally in the world right now.

"John! Let's get out of here!"

He had to move his legs twice as fast to run at the same speed as he could as an adult. Without further question, John fled with him.

Mycroft and Moriarty followed. Molly got out of her car and ran with them.

"Call for a taxi!" Sherlock yelled at John.

"Why me?"

"Because a three year old can't call for one!"

"Oh right," John waved his hand at the street. A taxi came in the nick of time and he and Sherlock got in.

The taxi drove off, leaving the three adults behind. Molly wrapped her arms around Moriarty.

"Oh Jimmy! Our son's run off!"

Mycroft, the exercise taking its toll, put his hands on his knees and sucked in deep breaths of sweet air. When he recovered, he straightened his stance.

"You're just as mad as he is," he told her, "Why would you go along with this 'adoption' plan?"

"Because he's soooo cute!" she squealed unintentionally in Moriarty's ear.

The villain groaned. It came to his attention that it might be better to share Sherlock with a potential mother. After all, it was usually the female parents who took care of all the icky stuff like vomit. He shuddered.

"You're right Molly. We need 'our' son back," he said with emphasis, "Let's get in your car and stop that crazy man from kidnapping him."

Molly stared at him for a second. John, a kidnapper? But instead of questioning Moriarty she decided to just roll with it.

"Okay honey! Let's go!" she unintentionally shouted in his ear again.

Moriarty tried not to swear as the woman darted off for her car and he followed. Mycroft stared dumbfounded at their retreating figures.

Yep. They were both insane. Time to protect his baby brother.

xxxxxx

When the two escapees returned home, Sherlock immediately began experimenting with his chemicals. Even though he sort of knew that Sherlock's mind still functioned as an adult, John was put off by the sight of a three year old handling something so dangerous.

"Sherlock. What the hell is going on? How in the world-?"

"Moriarty shot me with a de-aging gun, tried to adopt me, trapped me in a warehouse and forced me to see a stupid cartoon. I escaped, my brother was an asshole, and then that's when you appeared."

The way Sherlock said it, without looking at John and in such a monotone voice, made it seem like he was just analyzing data. John frowned.

"So what's your plan now?"

"Seeing as how it was a de-aging gun and prying it off from Moriarty might prove too difficult, trying to use it as a means to change me back to normal would probably be meaningless. What we need to do is create a potion that will turn me back to normal," Sherlock held up two vials and poured a green liquid into a red one, turning it grey and bubbly.

"A potion? You're making it sound like you're in a bloody Harry Potter class!"

Sherlock looked up at him. Even with the stool that he was using for height when experimenting, he was still nowhere near as tall as John. It was weird to have to look up to see him.

"Are you with me or against me? Because so far everyone's been against me."

John thought for a moment, looking unsure.

"Well. Okay fine. But be careful." he warned.

Sherlock smiled at that.

"Of course."

He was never more grateful that John was on his side. He stared down at the liquid, debating on whether or not to drink it.


	5. Chapter 5

Hesitantly, Sherlock took a sip of the bubbling liquid. It attacked his taste buds with its bitterness and he unintentionally dropped the vial onto the floor. It cracked from the contact.

John had his hand on Sherlock's tiny shoulder in seconds.

"Sherlock?"

The three-year-old's stomach was burning like fire. Sherlock's head was starting to get dizzy. In the next instant he blacked out.

xxx

He woke up on his bed, which was a lot bigger than it usually was, meaning that the potion did not work. He cursed. John had been sitting by his bedside the whole time. The doctor looked up from his book and immediately threw it aside to examine Sherlock.

"Oh thank god! Don't do that again. Are you alright?"

Sherlock groaned. John didn't know how to breach the next subject.

"Moriarty came over, trying to get you back."

This bit of information caused Sherlock to sit up. John gently pushed him back down again.

"Don't worry. Mycroft stopped him."

"How?" asked Sherlock.

John bit his lip. He was hoping Sherlock would save that question.

"He came over with the authorities and told him that Moriarty was crazy. Moriarty ran away and Mycroft...signed the papers."

Sherlock sat back up again. His paling face stared directly at John.

"What papers?"

"Adoption papers," said a voice.

Mycroft came in the room with his umbrella and a smirk. John got out of his seat.

"Don't you think that we should try to get him turned back to normal?"

The elder Holmes gave John such a stern look that the doctor took a step back.

"You saw what happened when he experimented the first time. We tried it his way, now we're trying it my way. I'm adopting him."

"Are you out of your mind?" Sherlock cried out. "You can't adopt me. I'm too old."

"You sure don't appear too old, Sherlock. You're in great danger. Don't you know what would have happened if Moriarty decided to kill you anyway? You have no way to protect yourself, baby brother. That's why I'm adopting you."

Mycroft walked over on the other side of the bed. He reached out his hand.

"Now come with me. We don't have to watch a movie but we are going to get something to eat."

What was everyone's fascination with feeding him? Sherlock only ate when he wanted to. And he hardly ever wanted to. Sherlock slapped the hand away.

"No. I'm staying with John."

"You don't have a choice in this," Mycroft sighed, "Even if you kick and scream the entire way, you're still coming with me."

Sherlock felt tears welling up. His eyes glossed with wetness, confusing both John and Mycroft. Sherlock suddenly dropped on his stomach and began thrashing with his arms and legs.

"I DON'T WANT TO! I DON'T! I WANNA' STAY WITH JOHN!"

Mycroft and John both had their jaws opened as the two looked at each other. Mycroft was the first to recover. He glared at the wailing toddler.

"You can't always get what you want, young man. You better straighten up this instant or else you're taking a nap."

Sherlock stilled.

"No! Don't make me take a nap!"

"Mycroft, can I see you alone for a second?" John didn't wait for the other man to respond. He just grabbed his arm and took him out of the room.

Sherlock watched them go, sniffling. Once they were alone, John closed the door behind him. He turned to Mycroft.

"What the bloody hell is going on? Why is he acting like that?"

Mycroft opened the door just slightly to make sure Sherlock wasn't going anywhere. The three-year-old was still on the bed.

"I don't know. Maybe he's thinking like a child now."

"But why?"

The elder Holmes glared at John.

"Do you honestly think I know? I don't. Maybe the gun took a while to take its full effect. Or maybe...maybe the potion."

John gulped. This was not good. It was bad enough that Sherlock was in the body of a three-year-old. But now he was thinking like one too. Mycroft gave him a grim look.

"If you care for him, you'll let me take him home with me. Sherlock is in a delicate state and I won't let him be in anymore danger."

"But what about changing him back?"

"We'll figure something out. For now though, I want him to come with me. Alright?"

John looked through the crack in the door. Sherlock was trying to get down off the bed but his legs were too short.

"Alright," he said.

The two men went back inside the room. John helped Sherlock down.

"Hey, why don't you go with your brother for now?"

Mycroft took Sherlock's hand.

"We can watch a movie."

Sherlock looked up at him.

"I wanna' stay with John. John's funny and he wears funny-looking jumpers."

"They're not funny-looking!" exclaimed John.

Mycroft laughed.

"You can see John later. Now let's get you something to eat."

"Can I have ice cream?"

"We'll see."

Sherlock deflated.

"That always means 'no.'"


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft led his shrunken brother to his the car. He helped him up and looked back at John. John was frowning, obviously not very pleased with the turn of events. But Mycroft knew he was doing the right thing.

The car drove off with both Holmes brothers in the back seat. Mycroft noticed that Sherlock wasn't talking much.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked the toddler.

"I don't wanna' eat."

"How about chicken noodle soup? You like that."

Sherlock tried to look out the window but his head couldn't reach high enough.

"Croft?"

"Hmm?" Mycroft secretly liked being called 'Croft' again.

"Why am I so small?"

Now the three-year-old had his attention on the elder Holmes, searching for an answer.

"What do you remember?" asked Mycroft.

Sherlock raised his hand to his mouth, thinking critically. He nearly slid out of his seat completely when the car made a turn. Mycroft would have to get him a safer car to ride in, or at the very least a seat.

"I was fighting the bad guy," Sherlock said in his high-pitched, super-cute voice, "And then he shot me. And then he was acting all weird."

"How so?"

"He wanted me to call him Daddy."

Mycroft laughed. He couldn't help it. He ruffled Sherlock's hair. The toddler was shocked at first, then he glared, trying to look scary. It was anything but. Mycroft laughed again.

"Stop making fun of me, Croft! I'm telling Mommy!"

"I'm not laughing at you. How's this? You take a nap after lunch and then I'll get you some ice cream."

Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Yes, Sherlock. Eat most of your lunch and take a nap and you can have any kind of ice cream you want."

Sherlock smiled bright enough to light up the whole town.

"Thanks Croft. Your nose is not so big after all."

When he was young, Sherlock would always say Mycroft's nose was big whenever he thought his older brother was being mean. Mycroft had not the slightest clue where he got the idea that having big noses and being mean were essentially the same thing.

Though Mycroft didn't voice it out loud, he liked that Sherlock was thinking like a toddler for now. It made protecting him easier.

x

Moriarty used his high tech spy glasses to peer through the mansion. He did have a de-aging gun, after all. So him having spy glasses wasn't that unbelievable. He and his minions were crouching underneath the bushes by the duck pond in Mycroft's yard.

The minions waited patiently for their boss to say something. One minion was playing with a baby duckling, before he got mauled by an angry parent. Another minion was eating the flowers because he recently failed a mission so Moriarty punished him by ordering him not to eat any food, only sticks and wild plants. Another minion was thinking up a new song that was sure to be a hit. He was just sure of it!

"Alright, here's the plan nameless minions. Once everyone's asleep, we'll take Sherlock and leave. Any questions?"

He looked at his men. The minions looked at a lost. One spoke up.

"So you want us to fall asleep then grab him? I don't know if I can do that."

"No, you idiot," Moriarty scolded, "Wait until everyone in that mansion is asleep."

"Wait until everyone in that mansion is asleep, does that include the kid?"

"Yes. We don't want him to scream and alert everyone."

The minion asking questions looked at the minion who had been thinking up a song and he pointed at him.

"Why would he scream? He works for you. He won't alert anyone."

"Okay, stay with me here," Moriarty was seriously thinking that he needed better help, "We wait until people in the mansion are asleep, Sherlock included. Then we grab _Sherlock_ while _Sherlock_ is asleep so that _Sherlock_ won't scream and alert the people in the mansion. Are we clear?"

There was a moment's pause before the minions nodded that they understood. Moriarty looked back at the house. Sherlock was going to be his son, legally or not. He always wanted an heir that was just as smart as he was. The de-aging gun proved to be even more of a blessing than he thought it would be.

x

Mycroft cradled the sleeping boy in his arms and gently laid him on the car-shaped bed he had bought for him. Sherlock stirred once but soon fell back into a comfortable slumber.

Was it weird that Mycroft liked babying his brother again? Maybe he should see a therapist. He was almost inclined to think that Sherlock shrinking was a good thing. It brought them closer together than they have been for a long time.

Yep, he needed to see a therapist. But he'll do that later. For now, he would just let Sherlock take his nap. They both had a long day.

He smiled at the innocent sight of his brother. If they couldn't find a cure, then Mycroft wouldn't mind raising him. Sherlock would get a second childhood too, so there was nothing selfish about wishing it would stay like this.

...Was there?


	7. Chapter 7

When he woke up from his nap, Sherlock rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hopped out of bed. The room was big with lots of toys in it. He stared at the place in wonder. He _was_ going to go find Mycroft immediately and get his ice cream that he was promised, but he supposed a few minutes of playing wouldn't take up too much time.

He eagerly rushed towards the toy box and popped open the lid. Toy cars, action figures, water guns and bouncing balls were all tucked neatly inside in an orderly fashion. It wouldn't take Sherlock long to mess everything up. He grabbed a red toy truck and went over to the middle of the room. The carpet was decorated to look like an entire city, so Sherlock made sure the toy truck stayed on the street. He went pass the hospital, then the park, and the police station after that. He made believed that the police were chasing after him, so he sped up, making 'vroom vroom' sounds as he glided the truck across the floor.

Sherlock didn't notice that someone was watching him. The man crept up behind him. Then when the moment was right, he grabbed Sherlock and began mercilessly tickling him.

"Hahaha! Stop it! Stop it, Croft!"

Mycroft smirked but let go of his little brother. Sherlock pouted in another failed attempt at looking scary. The toy truck was still in Sherlock's hands.

"I see you like your new toys. I'm glad."

"I want ice cream."

"What do you say?"

Sherlock sighed.

"Please?"

Mycroft motioned toward the toy box.

"Once you put the toy back where it belongs, I'll give you whatever ice cream you want."

"You have maids," Sherlock pointed out, "Why can't they do it?"

His older brother gave him a disapproving glance.

"You made the mess. You pick it up."

Sherlock sulked but did as he was told. Mycroft smiled.

"Good job. Now what kind?"

"I want vanilla," Sherlock said then added, "please?"

Mycroft placed his hand behind Sherlock, gently guiding him out of the room.

"Alright. Let's go get some."

Sherlock didn't just get _any_ kind of ice cream. He got soft served, the best kind. And it was in a cone too! Mycroft had chocolate. There was a buzz in his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at it.

"It looks like John's coming for a visit."

The news filled the toddler with excitement.

"Can he spend the night? Can he? Can he? Can he?"

"We'll see."

Sherlock deflated, mumbling how that always meant 'no.' Mycroft typed something on the cell. A few minutes later, after both brothers were finished eating, John appeared. Sherlock got out of his seat and gave him a big hug. John seemed discouraged about this. He turned to Mycroft.

"So he still thinks he's a kid?"

Mycroft stood up to face the doctor.

"Sherlock. Why don't you go play in your room? The grown-ups need to talk."

John looked at him disbelievingly. Sherlock took a while to let go of John's leg, then he left. Once he was out of ear-shot, John commenced nagging.

"Why are you treating him like a kid? We need to get him back to normal! Haven't you done anything yet?"

"It's only been a few hours since I got him," Mycroft said off-handedly, "Why not let him be a little kid for a while? I think that would do him some good."

"Do him some good and do some good for you?" John glared.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"What are you implying?"

Before John could explain himself further, there was a scream coming from Sherlock's room. Both men rushed toward the sound. Mycroft threw open the door to find three men and one of them holding a struggling Sherlock.

"Let me go! LET ME GO!"

"I said 'wait until they're asleep!'" a voice ran out.

It was a walkie-talkie. The minion that got mauled by the duck answered.

"We didn't want to wait that long," he defended himself.

"Let my brother go!" Mycroft yelled.

John rushed forward and punched the guy who was holding Sherlock in the face. While the man was recovering, he grabbed Sherlock and took him to Mycroft. Mycroft called someone on the cell phone, ordering them for assistance. Soon afterwards, the police surrounded the mansion.

"Come out with your feet up! What's that Al? Oh, right. Hands. I meant hands!"

"Use the high tech teleporter, nameless minion number 3," nameless minion number 1 ordered.

The man grabbed a remote, pressed the shiny red button and the three men disappeared. John wanted to know where in God's name Moriarty was getting all these gadgets. Sherlock was shaken by the events. He held onto Mycroft's leg.

"I don't want him to be my daddy. He likes men!"

Mycroft was even more shook up. He held onto Sherlock securely, dearly. He would have to go to even more lengths to protect his brother.

* * *

It was starting to get serious, so I made it a little cracky at the end.


	8. Chapter 8

John held the sleeping Sherlock in his arms. Ever since the attempted kidnapping, Sherlock refused to be in a room without either John or Mycroft. He had begged to be picked up until John caved in.

They were in Sherlock's room. Temporary room, John hoped. Mycroft had ordered surveillance to be intensified; cameras were set in ever corner of the room and the outside of it. Sherlock would not have stood for it if he had been an adult.

Mycroft came in the room and saw the sleeping boy in John's arms. He held his arms up.

"May I...hold him?"

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He gave Sherlock to Mycroft, watching the elder Holmes smile as he stared down at the child. John didn't like the way Mycroft was acting, not one bit. It was as if he already gave up trying to find a way to change Sherlock back without even trying in the first place. Not even that but it was like Mycroft actually _wanted_ Sherlock to stay this way.

Mycroft carried his brother to the bed. Sherlock was in such a deep slumber that he barely stirred. It was unusual for John to see Sherlock so relaxed.

"You two going to be okay by yourselves?" he asked.

Mycroft tucked Sherlock in and motioned for John to follow him. He led the doctor out of the room and quietly shut the door.

"Yes John. Sherlock will be just fine. Thank you for taking him away from that nameless minion. I don't know what I'd do if Moriarty adopted him. And before you ask, no, I'm not against the idea because Moriarty's gay. I have plenty of gay friends, which means I'm not a homophobe. In fact, one of my gay friends invited me to a-"

"Mycroft," John decided to cut him off there because they were getting really far from the point, "You're welcome. I'll do anything for Sherlock. Do you think you can hire some scientists to change him back? If Moriarty can find a way to control age, so can you."

Mycroft saw that he wasn't going to be accused of being closed minded again. He was too used to politics. Mycroft nodded.

"Yes. I will hire some help and we'll get him back to normal."

"You're going to hire help first thing in the morning right?" John's eyes showed that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

"Yes."

John breathed out a sigh of relief. That was good to hear. For a second he thought Mycroft was trying to keep Sherlock young so they could make up for lost time and have this desperate attempt to become close.

Mycroft watched John leave. He did say that he was going to hire some help first thing in the morning. But he didn't say it had to be _tomorrow_ morning.

x

None of the minions liked the box. It was a big box that would fit one person each. They would be forced to sit there and do absolutely nothing for ten hours straight. It was pure torture. But that's where they all found themselves, crammed in the box.

Moriarty was seething. That fat Holmes had increased the security. Now it was going to be harder to get his son back. They had no choice, they would have to wait for the scientists to create an invisible machine. Not a machine that was invisible. A machine that turned you invisible. Wouldn't it be weird to have a machine that was invisible? Moriarty wouldn't want to accidently bump into it.

He was so glad he found these scientists on craigslist. They were desperate for work and so far have proved to be extremely useful. With the de-age gun and the teleporters, Moriarty was even more awesome than before.

And that was pretty awesome.

"Can we get out of the box yet?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"My legs are cramping!"

"Too bad," Moriarty held no sympathy in his voice.

"I'm hungry."

"Then eat air."

The minion who said he was hungry mumbled something under his breath. Moriarty swiveled to look at him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing. What did you say?"

"He said you looked fat in that suit," one of the other minions answered.

Moriarty stopped cold. He looked fat? Him? No, that can't possibly be. Sure he had a piece of cake this morning but he couldn't have gained too much weight off that. Oh no! Should he try WeightWatchers? South Beach Diet? He couldn't be a sexy evil man if he was fat.

Moriarty forgot about his minions and even Sherlock for a moment. He rushed out of the super secret hideout located underneath Mycroft's house to go grocery shopping. It was time to get a whole lot of celery and radishes.

He would get Sherlock later, he told himself.

* * *

More poking fun at Moriarty. I also tried making fun of Mycroft too in this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

"Croft, I want to play in that room."

Mycroft was holding Sherlock's hand and showing him around where he worked. He looked to where his little brother was pointing to.

"That's the science lab, it's for important experiments. You don't need to be in there."

Sherlock stared at him with puppy eyes but Mycroft wouldn't be fooled by it. Not this time. Sure, he caved in when Sherlock wanted ice cream. And when he wanted the new toy. And when he wanted to hear a story. And when he wanted to go to the park. But this time, this time, Mycroft wouldn't waver.

"I said no. Now what do you want to eat?"

The younger Holmes saw he wasn't going to get his way and frowned. The two made it back to Mycroft's office, Sherlock was led back to the corner of the room where toys were scattered around.

"We already ate."

"Five hours ago. What do you want for lunch? Come on Sherlock you need something."

Sherlock fiddled with his toy cake and tea set. Mycroft thought cake and tea sounded wonderful just then. But maybe a little bit more cake and only a small helping of tea. Or maybe tea with extra sugar. How long was he supposed to stay on this diet again?

"Can we have McDonald's?"

Mycroft pulled out his phone and went to sit down at his desk.

"That sounds good. What would you like?"

"Chicken."

"Four piece chicken nuggets. And a side of carrot sticks. Got it."

Sherlock frowned.

"I want french fries."

Mycroft sent a text message to his assistant, not looking Sherlock in the eye.

"You need your vegetables. Remember what Mummy always told us."

"Well what vegetables are you going to have?" Sherlock asked accusingly with his arms crossed.

"The ketchup on the hamburger counts."

Sherlock remembered this all too well. Mycroft never ate healthy, yet he always forced him to eat his fruits and veggies. Sometimes Sherlock wished he was the older brother. That way, he could have french fries if he wanted and play in the science lab.

The lab might have lots of cool vials and chemicals to experiment with. Maybe he could concoct something that would turn him back into a grown-up.

The two brothers had their lunch. Mycroft's cell phone had rang shortly after and the elder male was engrossed in a discussion about North Korea's government. It was all boring to Sherlock.

Mycroft turned around on his spinning chair so that he was facing away from the toddler. Sherlock saw is chance. He tiptoed out of the room, making sure to open and close the door silently.

Once he was out of the room, Sherlock walked to the science lab. There were no workers in the hallway but there were two scientists in the lab. He walked inside, making sure that he wasn't seen.

"I'm telling you Mike. It can't be done. Scientists have tried for years and nothing worked."

"We can do the impossible Sheryl. We can make a diet soda that tastes like the real thing."

"You're insane."

They were over on the other side of the room but there was a lot of space they weren't using. In fact, Sherlock found that he had a table all to himself. He grabbed a clean vial and poured some blue stuff in it.

Every so often, he would make sure that the scientists weren't looking his way. They were still too preoccupied with their little experiment. Sherlock scoffed, they didn't understand that there were real experiments to be had. Like changing him back to normal.

Or creating delicious fat-burning pizza. That's what Mycroft always said they should do.

He saw something orange and decided to put it in with the blue. The substance bubbled up and smelled horrible. Sherlock nearly gagged. He grabbed some yellow liquid and put it inside, making the whole thing pink and smelling like bubble-gum. It smelled good enough to drink. The impervious child took a sip and found it really did taste delicious.

He only had a sip though, as he was dragged away. The scientist named Sheryl stared at him in horror.

"Oh no. You drank it. The boss is going to kill us!"

Sherlock struggled in her arms. Mike came in front of him and looked at him.

"Do you feel sick?"

"No," Sherlock said, "Let me go."

"He looks okay. And this chemical," he took a whiff at the vial, "Seems harmless enough."

Sheryl looked down at the little boy she was holding.

"Still. We have to tell him."

Sherlock froze. No, don't tell Mycroft that he drank something he concocted from a lab. Mycroft would never let him have ice cream again.

"If we tell him. We'll get fired."

"So you think we shouldn't tell him?" Sheryl asked incredulously.

Mike frowned.

"We'll never be able to work as scientists again if he fires us. Young man, will you keep it a secret?"

Sherlock felt relief at hearing this.

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's take him back."

Sheryl, still holding onto Sherlock, walked with Mike out of the lab. They were in the hallway when Mycroft came rushing towards them. He smiled when he saw Sherlock, though he frowned immediately after.

"You are in so much trouble, young man."

Sheryl let Sherlock down and Mycroft took that opportunity to grab him by the hand. He shot Sherlock a deadly look.

"Thank you for bringing him back. And as for you, Sherlock, I have no choice but to keep you in your room while I work. I thought I could take you with me and give you some freedom but you ruined that."

He lead the struggling toddler out of the building. The two scientists watched them go. Hopefully their boss wouldn't find out that they found Sherlock a second too late.


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft was really starting to worry about his little brother. Throughout the entire car ride the toddler didn't say anything. He looked to be in pain, clutching onto his stomach like that. Was he still upset that he lost the right to go to work with him?

The elder Holmes tried to get Sherlock to say something but every time Sherlock would just stare off into space and remain silent.

Maybe he was tired? The three-year-old did seem to be a tad sleepy. Mycroft peered down at him while the car slowed to a halt in front of his mansion. He held out his hand for Sherlock to take.

"Come on. Let's take a nap. We can watch a movie afterwards."

Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes glossing. He really looked to be in pain.

"Are you alright? Do you need to see a doctor?"

"No. Just tired," Sherlock quietly replied.

Mycroft wasn't buying it. He decided he would call his personal doctor and get Sherlock checked out. But first he would insist that Sherlock take a small nap. Fortunately, he didn't have to do any convincing. Sherlock was more than willing to hop into his car-shaped bed.

The toddler let Mycroft pull the covers over him. Sherlock laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes.

"I'll be close if you need me. Remember to press the button if you need something, alright?"

He waited for Sherlock to respond but Sherlock didn't show any signs that he heard him. Worried, Mycroft tiptoed out of the room. What happened to his brother?

xxx

Sherlock groaned in pain. It felt like a fire-hot knife was poking at his spleen. He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked around. Where was he? Was this a child's room? Why was he here? He couldn't remember anything.

Mycroft came in a few seconds later, followed by a woman who was very obviously a doctor. She had a stern but concerned expression on her features and looked to be about in her mid-thirties. The doctor came towards the bed and placed a hand on Sherlock's burning forehead.

"That's definitely a fever. Alright, let's get you checked out, shall we? Can you sit up?"

"Let me help you," Mycroft offered.

He helped Sherlock up. Sherlock wanted to protest, to say he didn't need any bloody help sitting up but his lips wouldn't move despite his best efforts.

The woman held out a stethoscope and placed it on his chest. She listened carefully.

"Ok. Now can you open your mouth?"

Sherlock tried. He really did. But his lips still didn't budge. Why couldn't he talk? The doctor frowned. She and Mycroft went outside to talk, leaving Sherlock to wonder what the hell they were saying. Mycroft came back and gently pushed Sherlock back down on the bed.

"Go back to sleep, Sherlock. We'll get you some medicine soon and make you feel all better."

The two adults left the room. Sherlock wanted to cuss his brother out. Why was he treating him like a child? What right did he have?

But, Sherlock yawned, he really was sleepy. Maybe he would take a nap and then chew Mycroft out later. That sounded like a good plan.

xxx

"Wake up for Daddy."

That voice. Crap!

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. He was no longer in that extravagant children's room that Mycroft had the nerve to put him in. Now he was in a living room that had a modern theme. He was lying down on a plush couch, looking up at the man who kidnapped him. There was a telly in front of them, a kitchen with a dining room off to the side and a set of stairs going up.

Moriarty was alone as far as Sherlock could tell. The toddler shot out of the couch and made a run for it but Moriarty grabbed him before he could get too far. Sherlock struggled in the villain's arms but he was easily held in place. Moriarty tapped Sherlock's head with a little bit of force, not enough to be called a smack but dangerously close.

"Enough of that. Don't make me send you to your room. We're not going to run away from Daddy anymore, now are we?"

Why did he have to get stuck with this psycho? Moriarty smiled and sat down with Sherlock in his lap. He grabbed the remote and changed the telly to-

Oh shit. It was this show again! The tiger and the lamb were playing hide-and-seek.

No. Nonononono. Sherlock would not waste his precious time watching this. The toddler went back to struggling, earning a frustrated sigh from Moriarty.

"That's enough, Sherlock Moriarty. Isn't Daddy trying his hardest to make you happy? Don't be such a brat."

"I'm gonna' vomit!"

Moriarty flashed a grin.

"Nice try but that won't work a second time."

Sherlock was feeling much better, unfortunately, so he wasn't going to vomit. The tiger was now telling the lamb that he had special feelings for this female rabbit. Someone shoot him now.

"I don't want to watch this. Where's John? Let me go."

"If I let you go, you're going to have to take your medicine, which will make you very sleepy."

"You mean you're going to drug me?" Sherlock looked up at his enemy.

Moriarty made a 'tsk tsk' sound and smiled at the three-year-old. He patted Sherlock's head and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to tear his arm off.

"I prefer to call it resourceful parenting."

Of all the times Mycroft's surveillance decided not to work.

"What do you want from me?" demanded Sherlock.

Moriarty looked at him as if the answer to that was obvious.

"Well, I'm adopting you. I already told you this. Tomorrow we're going to start your training as a criminal mastermind and if you're really good then Daddy will buy you an evil teddy bear. One that snipes for you. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Sherlock gulped. His escape was going to take some time but he just had to get out of here.

He could really, really use John right about now.


	11. Chapter 11

"Ugh..."

Waking up after being drugged to the gills was never fun. Trust Sherlock Holmes to know that for a fact. But waking up after being drugged when you were a three year old, that was hard.

The sound of curtains flying open and a second later blinding light blasted into Sherlock's eyes. The toddler tried to shield the light with his tiny hands.

"Wakey wakey. Guess what time it is, my little evil genius."

Moriarty was way too perky this morning. Sherlock looked over at the clock hanging on the wall. 8:03. Sherlock rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hopped out of his small bed, revealing embarrassing pajamas that Moriarty forced him to wear. They were a cozy sky blue color made of cotton. And they had prints of a smiling train all over them.

The villain strode over, wearing his nice suit and a matching tie complete with oxford shoes, and he ruffled Sherlock's hair.

"Hey!"

Sherlock slapped the hand away. Moriarty laughed.

"Well, it's time for breakfast. Then we will start the day training. What would you like? Daddy can make pancakes. Or would you like some muffins?"

What Sherlock would like was to go home but he wasn't going to waste precious breath asking Moriarty for that. He had to save every last bit of energy thinking of a way out. The best point of tactic was to play house with this maniac until Moriarty let his guard down.

The toddler looked up at him, intentionally appearing innocent.

"I want pancakes. Please."

"You said please. That's very good, Sherlock. You should always say please to me. Only to me though. If you want something from someone else, I want you to order them to give it to you without saying please. It's a valuable lesson to learn for a criminal mastermind. But I'll teach you that later. Come with me."

He held out his hand. Sherlock reluctantly took it. What choice did he have? Moriarty guided him down the stairs. He instructed Sherlock to sit on the couch and wait for breakfast to be ready. But before Moriarty left for the kitchen, he turned on the telly.

"I don't want to watch this," Sherlock proclaimed when he saw the tiger and lamb.

"That's too bad. I'm not letting you watch mindless shows."

'What do you call this?' Sherlock asked in his mind.

Moriarty looked at him a bit disapprovingly. He held out his finger.

"This show is very educational. And I want my son to be very, very educated. I'm sure you'll start to like this show after watching it a few more times. Now be a good boy and stay in this spot. Daddy will have your delicious pancakes out shortly."

The villain went into the kitchen, his back was turned as he grabbed a box of pancake mixture with the label _Even YOU Can Make Pancakes_.

Sherlock saw that Moriarty was distracted. This was his chance. He climbed down off the couch but his feet barely touched the ground when Moriarty swiveled with great speed and pointed an accusing finger at the toddler. What, did he have eyes in the back of his head or something?

"No no NO! No more running away from Daddy. Get your tiny behind back on that couch."

Sherlock grumbled but climbed back up. Moriarty grinned and turned back to his cooking.

A little bit later, Sherlock and Moriarty were eating pancakes. Moriarty cut into his breakfast very elegantly as if he were eating steak in a five star restaurant.

Sherlock ate his silently. No, he wasn't sulking. He was thinking.

No, really. He wasn't sulking.

"Alright, son. Time for your training," Moriarty said when they were finished.

Sherlock hopped out of the chair. As much as he hated to be here, he was interested in seeing how Moriarty planned to teach him to be a criminal mastermind. As long as there were no murders involved, of course.

Moriarty led the toddler upstairs to some room with a caged rabbit in the center. Sherlock looked at Moriarty as if to ask "are you serious?" Moriarty gave the toddler a reassuring smile.

"The first lesson is to be mean. I want you to be as mean as you can to this bunny rabbit, even though it's cute. Can you do that? Go ahead and try it. Daddy believes in you."

He nudged Sherlock forward. The toddler staggered in front of the cage. Really? This was the training? Being mean to a bunny rabbit? Where was the challenge in that?

Sherlock stared at the bunny. The bunny stared at Sherlock. Sherlock had a sinking feeling that the bunny could read his thoughts.

He shook his head. What a ridiculous idea.

"You're not cute," he told it.

"Keep going, Sherlock. Be meaner."

The adult was watching Sherlock intently, so Sherlock knew he couldn't just make a run for it. He couldn't make his escape just yet.

"I want to make stew out of you."

"Good boy. Keep going."

Why was he talking to a rabbit? How much meaner could he get?

Then he got an idea. He would pretend he was talking to Moriarty.

"You're fat. You're gay. You're ugly. No one likes you. You smell. I want to take you to an asylum and then bomb the asylum with you in it."

Moriarty gave Sherlock an enthusiastic applause.

"Good! Very good, Sherlock. I especially love it when you told the rabbit it smelled. Let me reward you."

"I don't want an evil teddy bear," Sherlock turned around to face the villain.

Moriarty didn't look unhappy. In fact he nodded his head in understanding.

"That's probably for the best. I couldn't find one anywhere on ebay anyway. I guess they don't exist. Shame, really. Daddy is going to give you some ice cream. Let's go to the ice cream shop and get some."

Sherlock's ears perked at hearing this. They were going to go someplace. Sherlock saw his chance. He gave Moriarty a big smile.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Good, Sherlock. Thanking me is important. Only me though. If anyone else does you a favor or give you something, you're supposed to act as ungrateful as possible. But I'll teach you that later."

He grabbed hold of Sherlock's hand and the two left the room.

The rabbit read Sherlock's last thought. The toddler wanted to escape? The rabbit could sympathize. He wanted to escape from the gay man too.


	12. Chapter 12

Once the two left Moriarty's home and entered into the public eye, Sherlock saw his chance.

"Help! He kidnapped me! Someone call the police! He's mad!"

Sherlock felt his body being dragged into the air. Moriarty laughed nervously as people stared at them. The villain took the wailing toddler and went back inside.

When Sherlock continued to scream, Moriarty pushed a few buttons that were on a pad on the wall. The house was in lock down after that.

"Now, no one can hear us."

Hearing this, Sherlock stopped yelling. Moriarty threw a hot glare his way. But Sherlock had hope. Surely someone must've been alarmed and decided to call the police. He was safe. He had to be.

"No ice cream for you."

Good. He didn't want any ice cream anyway. Moriarty carried him to the couch and laid him down so that he was face down across the villain's lap. That was odd. Why was he-

Sherlock's eyes widened for a split second when he felt a hard smack on his rear. Oh no. Just no. There was no way this was happening.

Moriarty slapped a few more times. Then Sherlock started to struggle.

"You crazy mother-"

"Language," Moriarty warned, giving Sherlock another spank.

Fortunately, it was over soon. Sherlock winced in pain. Moriarty stood up with Sherlock still in his arms and he carried the toddler to the children's bedroom. He placed Sherlock down onto the floor.

"You are to stay here and think about what you've done."

A few spanks and time-out. This punishment wasn't the worst in the world, thought Sherlock. Moriarty cracked an evil smile.

"And just to make sure you know how really angry I am with you..."

The villain went over to the telly, again too high for Sherlock's reach. He turned it on and popped in a dvd.

"The Adventures of the Tiger and the Lamb. A full 6 hour movie of fun!" the telly broadcast.

"NO!" Sherlock screeched.

He tried to run away but Moriarty easily kept him away from the door. The villain smiled down at him.

"Have a good time," and with that, he closed the door and locked it.

Sherlock immediately started searching on the floor for a hairpin. The tiger was eating carrots and telling the audience how yummy they were.

After half an hour, Sherlock realized that there was no way to escape. He swore he was going to rip off his head and play football with it. He couldn't stand this show. What nonsense! He looked at how the tiger and the lamb were arguing.

Sherlock gasped. They were arguing? Suddenly his interest was peaked. The tiger said that the lamb had cut in front of him. Sherlock didn't know how or why but he wanted to see them be friends again. He sat down on the floor and watched.

x

After the six hour time-out was over, Moriarty opened the door to find a very brain dead son. Maybe he should have only kept him locked up for three hours, he mused. Sherlock smiled and laughed as the tiger and lamb made up and walked with each other toward the sunset. The sun was smiling, by the way.

"Sherlock?"

The toddler looked at him. He rubbed his tired eyes and yawned. Moriarty took in this sight.

"Are you sleepy? Do you need a nap?"

"Yeah. I'm a little sleepy. I like the tiger. He's my favorite. Can I have a tiger doll? Please?"

Did something seem different about Sherlock? Moriarty couldn't put his finger on it. But his son really did look like he needed a nap. He went over and turned the telly off.

"Okay. I'll give you one. I'll also let you take a little nap. Hop into bed and I'll wake you up after awhile."

Sherlock looked at him as if expecting something. Moriarty blinked.

"What?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

Sherlock wanted a story? That was so sickeningly sweet! This might be a chance to bond with his son.

"Alright. Get in bed and Daddy will tell you a story."

Sherlock did as he was told. Moriarty went over and sat by the bed. He looked at the toddler, who was wrapped up comfortably in the covers.

"Do you want to hear about the time Daddy killed his first victim? Or when Daddy and Uncle Sebastian tortured a man until he was begging for death? Do any of those sound like fun stories?"

Sherlock didn't look interested or even fazed by these options. He laid his head down on the pillow.

"Can you tell me about what you were like when you were a kid?"

Moriarty's heart wasn't touched often. That was because his heart had haphephobia, the fear of touch. And yes, it had been scientifically proven that organs could have phobias. But this request touched Moriarty's heart so deeply that the villain wanted to cry tears of joy.

What a wonderful son he had. So sweet. He would have to discouraged his son from being too sweet, though. Sweetness and evil geniuses did not mix. But Moriarty supposed he would do the discouraging a little later, when his heart wasn't so touched.

"Of course, Sherlock. When I was young I liked to bully people."

"Why?"

"It was fun."

"Why?"

Well, Moriarty never thought of that. He took a moment to think.

"Well, I suppose it's because I didn't have a good childhood."

"What happened?" Sherlock stared at him with innocent eyes.

Should he tell his three year old son all this? Moriarty figured telling him a little wouldn't hurt.

"It's a sad story."

"It is?"

"Yes," Moriarty bent his head down in misery, "When I was your age, my hero died. And I was left with bitter feelings for the rest of my life. I wanted to take it out on all of mankind. So that's why I bullied."

Sherlock leaned his head in, clearly interested.

"Who was your hero?"

"Buzz the Incredible Fly."

"He died?"

Moriarty smiled sadly.

"Well, not exactly. The show was canceled. It was my life. I would get up every morning to watch it. That was when I decided to become an evil genius, so everyone can feel the pain I felt as a child."

Sherlock frowned. What a sad story. Poor Moriarty. The adult got up and ruffled Sherlock's hair.

"Don't worry about it, son. Just get some shut eye and we'll resume training after your nap."

"Okay. 'Night Daddy."

Sherlock knew Moriarty wasn't really his father but he felt so sorry for him. It did the trick and produced a smile on Moriarty's face.

* * *

I wrote one version of this chapter but it was crap. So I wrote this one. I think a little sweetness in a fic is good for the soul. =)


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock woke up and looked up at the window that was perched above his dresser. Moriarty wasn't in the room yet. Sherlock stifled a yawn. He still felt bad for the villain but now he missed Mycroft. And John. He really missed his best friend John.

He saw that there was a toy box. His interest peaked, Sherlock hopped out of bed to see what toys he could play with. When he opened the box, he saw toy guns and soldiers. There was also fake sticks of dynamite and bombs made out of hardened clay.

A toy sword was what caught Sherlock's eye. He could play pirates with this. He grabbed it by the handle and swung it around. He pretended that he was fighting a bunch of enemy pirates all by himself. And he was winning.

Moriarty opened the door, his dark eyes set themselves on the small boy. The villain smiled.

"You like the toys? That's good news. Who are you killing, little villain?"

Sherlock stopped what he was doing to look at Moriarty.

"Pirates," he replied.

Moriarty was still smiling but his expression showed that he wasn't completely satisfied with the answer.

"You're fighting bad guys? Why don't you fight some good guys? Like cops or innocent bystanders?"

Sherlock didn't even think of that. Moriarty was certainly weird, thought the toddler. Sherlock raised his sword.

"I want to be a pirate when I grow up!"

"Good boy," Moriarty praised, "Then let's get out the soldiers and make-believe that they're the British navy. You can play like you're killing them all."

"Okay."

Moriarty set up the soldiers and the floor and watched Sherlock knock them down with the toy sword. The villain's phone rang. When Moriarty answered, his entire face fell.

"What? No, that can't be!"

Sherlock ceased playing to look at Moriarty. The adult seemed very distressed. Moriarty was now pacing around the room frantically.

"Are you sure? How did they? What do you mean they found us?"

Sherlock wondered. Was it Mycroft? Had he found them?

"I'm not handing him over. You can tell that fat umbrella guy to go lie in a ditch."

Oh! It was Mycroft. Sherlock withheld a smile. He was going to get to see his brother again.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to go to another secret hideout. I'm a criminal mastermind, remember? I have an infinite amount of secret hideouts. I have so many hideouts that Earth can't hold them all, so I have some on Mars," there was a pause, then Moriarty said, "Don't tell me what's possible or not! Get the car ready."

With that, Moriarty hung up and looked at Sherlock.

"Alright. We're going for a little ride, Sherlock. We can get something to eat at the new place. Hold Daddy's hand."

Moriarty reached for Sherlock. The toddler was torn between his love for his brother and the pity he felt for the villain. Figuring he didn't have any other choice, Sherlock took hold of the offered hand.

Moriarty led Sherlock to a car that was waiting outside. There was a tall, thin and scary looking guy behind the wheel. Moriarty helped Sherlock in the back seat before getting to the passenger side.

Sherlock was in a car seat. He felt embarrassed because car seats were for little kids. Moriarty turned to the driver.

"Okay Moran, let's go."

At first Sherlock thought Moriarty was calling the driver names, then he realized that the driver's name must be Moran. The scary man sighed before speeding onto the street. He was going so fast that they left real fire in their tracks.

"Slow down, idiot! We're trying to lie low," Moriarty screeched.

"Why adopt him anyway? Weren't you going to kill him?"

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. Kill him. Moriarty wanted to kill him?

"You want to kill me, Daddy?" he asked, intentionally trying to sound cute.

Moriarty looked back at him and offered him a smile.

"No. Uncle Moran's simply on crack. Don't listen to him. We're going to eat some Chinese food when we get to our new home. How's that sound?"

"It sounds yummy, Daddy. Can I see John sometime?"

"Alright. We'll kidnap John later," Moriarty turned back to Moran, "You know which hideout we're going to, right?"

"The one with the ugly gargoyles," Moran answered him.

"What! No! I wanted to go to the one with the pool."

Sherlock was excited. Pool? He liked pools.

"The one with the pool is also the one with the gargoyles," Moran insisted, not taken his eyes off the road.

"No, you're on crack. Quit smoking that."

Moriarty took the stick out of Moran's mouth before the other could react. Sherlock couldn't see what was happening but there was a long, awkward silence.

"A lollipop? You've been sucking on a lollipop this whole time? I thought it was a joint!" Moriarty exclaimed.

"Stop it, boss."

"What are you, 5 years old? You're my right hand man. You can't be eating candy."

"Don't tell me what to do with my life," Moran told him.

Sherlock tried to look out the window. Was it just him or was sirens going off behind them? Moran and Moriarty didn't seem to notice.

"Excuse me? I believe that I'm your boss. I believe that I have the RIGHT to tell you what to do with your life. If I tell you to go on a diet, you do it. If I tell you to quit eating candy, you do it. And if I tell you to do drugs, you do it."

"That wasn't in my contract," Moran said with anger in his voice.

"Daddy-"

"Not now Sherlock. Uncle Moran and Daddy are talking."

"But Daddy-" Sherlock pressed.

"Hush. Take a nap or something. Play with one of your imaginary friends."

"There's cops behind us," Sherlock said.

Moriarty looked back, shocked. He looked back at at Moran.

"He's right. Floor it!"

"Floor it? I thought you wanted to lie low."

"Do both at the same time!"

"I can't do both at the same time!" Moran argued loudly.

"What am I paying you for then? Fine. Pull over and let me do the talking."

Moran obeyed. A policeman came over. Sherlock thought he looked kind of cool.

"Is there a problem, Officer?" Moriarty asked.

The policeman looked at Sherlock.

"There's a missing kid. We're looking for him. We heard that there was a kid shouting 'kidnapper' earlier in this neighborhood."

"Oh really?" Moriarty smiled, glancing at Sherlock, "We haven't seen a kidnapped kid anywhere."

"The kid in the back seat looks a lot like the kid we're looking for."

Moran drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Moriarty frowned. This might be a losing battle, after all.


	14. Chapter 14

"Oh, does he?" Moriarty asked the officer with a large, plastered grin, "I guess all kids look the same."

Moran nervously took a bite out of his lollipop. Sherlock wanted some candy too. But what he really wanted to do was see John and Mycroft. The policeman stared at the toddler, then looked at a photograph in his hands, then back at him.

"He looks a whole lot like the kid we're looking for," he told the two men in the car.

"Oh, well he's-" but Moriarty didn't have time to finish. A dozen sirens cried out at once and soon their car was surrounded by police cars.

The cops swarmed in with guns in their hands and ordered the men to get on the ground. Moran and Moriarty did as they were told. Moriarty hissed at how this was all Moran's fault. Moran hissed to Moriarty that he can just go lie in a ditch.

Before Sherlock realized it, he was being picked up by one of the policewomen. She smiled down at him, as if to assure a scared child. But Sherlock wasn't scared.

"Your father is really worried about you. He'll be glad to see you again," she said as she carried him to her vehicle. Her partner, another woman, grabbed the booster seat from Moriarty's car and placed it securely inside the police car.

Sherlock took one last glance at Moriarty. He saw a sly smile on his face, so Sherlock had a feeling that Moriarty was coming up with a plan.

The women drove him to the mansion. Sherlock never said anything. The women thought it was because he was scared. But the real reason he was silent was because he just didn't feel like talking.

He saw Mycroft rushing out the doors.

"Sherlock! There you are."

To Sherlock's great pleasure, John came out the door as well. The toddler bounced up and down eagerly. One of the cops took him out of the car. Mycroft picked him up and held him close.

"I was so worried about you," he whispered in his ear.

John came up to them.

"Sherlock, are you okay? What happened to Moriarty?"

"We caught him down the street," the policewoman said, "He's probably going to be in jail for a long time."

Mycroft frowned. He would really like to believe that but he knew deep down that Moriarty was too crafty to imprison for long. But he didn't want to think about that right now. Sherlock was safe and that was all that mattered.

"I think this calls for a celebration. Let's have a nice lunch."

"John too?" Sherlock asked his brother.

"Of course," Mycroft turned to John, "You're okay with that, right?"

John nodded. He had been terrified when he heard that Sherlock had been captured. Especially when Sherlock was still thinking like a kid.

Mycroft thanked the police and took Sherlock inside and John followed. A few minutes later they were having roasted duck with steamed vegetables, buttered rolls, sweet treats and a whole lot more. Sherlock sat between John and Mycroft.

He was really happy. He was back with John and his brother. Maybe they could play together after they ate?

Sherlock ate some mash potatoes before insisting that he was full. Mycroft had someone clean up the table. John, Mycroft and Sherlock went into a large living room with the biggest telly Sherlock had ever seen. There was also a hot tub. Who has a hot tub in their living room? Mycroft was the coolest brother ever!

"Not hurting for cash, are you?" John commented, looking around.

Mycroft took a seat on a beautiful gold trimmed sofa and had the other two males do the same. Sherlock bounced in his seat because it felt so soft.

"Manners, Sherlock. We have a guest," Mycroft told him.

John looked at the older Holmes.

"You mean you have two guests."

Mycroft paused. John continued.

"Sherlock and I are the ones living together, remember? Have you done anything to get him back to normal?"

"Of course, I have," Mycroft's voice was bitter, "But we need to take this one day at a time. We don't know what would happen if the experiment fails. Who knows what the consequences of that would be? He might grow another arm. On top of his head!"

Sherlock liked the idea of having an arm on his head. He could reach extra-high then.

"Can we do it?" pleaded Sherlock, "I want to be a grown-up too."

John smiled and pointed at the toddler to prove his point. Mycroft frowned at the doctor, before peering down at his little brother.

"Sherlock. We are trying to get you back to normal. Don't worry about that. But in the meantime, you are to stay here in this house. And also," he looked up at the doctor, "I want John to stay too."

Sherlock and John gaped at him. Sherlock's surprise turned to joy as he hollered in excitement. John remained shocked.

"What do you mean you want me to stay?" he demanded.

Mycroft ruffled Sherlock's hair. Sherlock calmed down.

"I don't want him kidnapped anymore. My security wasn't enough to stop Moriarty. So I want you to be with him at all times, since I can't. I'll pay you, of course," Mycroft explained.

John scoffed.

"You know I wouldn't accept money to protect a friend. And I know you have a job but I do too. I can't take him to work with me."

"That's taken care of. You get the next few weeks off."

John blinked. How much power did Mycroft have anyway? Sherlock smiled up at his friend.

"Now we can play all the time! Wouldn't it be really neat if you were a kid too? That would be so neat!"

John looked at Mycroft, then back at Sherlock and sighed. It was probably for the best that he kept a close eye on Sherlock anyway. At any time Moriarty could change his mind and decide to kill Sherlock rather than raise him.

"Okay. I'll do it."

"Yay!" Sherlock jumped off the couch, "Play pirates with me. Please?"

John hoped that Sherlock would stop thinking like a kid soon. Mycroft read a text on his cell.

"It seems that I have some work to do. You two will be okay by yourselves, won't you? Right then, I'm off."

"Bye," Sherlock said to his brother, "Come back soon so we can play pirates."

Mycroft smiled. Before Sherlock shrank, his brother hardly ever wanted anything to do with him. Now he was extremely attached. Mycroft, of all people, should know that caring was not an advantage. And yet he couldn't help but think of all the ways to keep Sherlock safe. He worried about him constantly.

"All right. Be good for John now," he ruffled Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock didn't like it when Mycroft did that but he didn't say anything. When Mycroft was gone, he looked at John.

"Okay. I'm the pirate and you're the damsel in distress."

"Why do I got to be the damsel in distress?" asked John.

"Because I'm the pirate."

John sighed.

* * *

I know. This chapter's not as funny as the others. The next one should have more of that crack humor essential for crack fics. Stay tuned.


	15. Chapter 15

"John, I want juice," Sherlock tugged at John's pants.

The two were in the kitchen. They didn't mean to be in the kitchen. They had lost their way when trying to reach the backyard. Sherlock must have decided that he was thirsty the minute he saw the fridge.

"Alright. Let's see what we got," it took John a few minutes of searching through the cupboards before he found a toddler cup.

He opened the fridge and his eyes widened in shock. Wow. There was a lot of cake in here. At least it was better than having a severed head inside.

John saw that there was grape, orange and apple juice neatly tucked away at the top shelf. He asked Sherlock what kind he wanted. The toddler looked up in thought.

"I want cranberry."

"There is no cranberry in here," honestly, this was why John wasn't good with children.

"Then I want grape."

John took out the grape, poured out the contents and handed the cup to Sherlock. Sherlock sipped at it. Then he held it back up.

"I changed my mind. I want orange."

John scowled.

"You said you wanted grape," he pointed out.

"I changed my mind," Sherlock insisted.

"Why did you...Alright," John got a different cup and filled it with orange juice.

He took the cup of grape juice from Sherlock's hands while the toddler drank some of his orange juice. Then the toddler stopped.

"I changed my mind again. I want grape."

"Sherlock!" exclaimed John.

The toddler pouted when he saw that he was in trouble. John wasn't going to let that work on him. Seeing that John's face hasn't soften yet, Sherlock tried harder.

"I'm sorry. I'll drink the orange juice. It's just that you're so good at pouring juice. I couldn't help but admire watching you."

Sherlock went back to drinking. Despite himself, John couldn't help but feel flattered. Was he really that good at pouring juice? Maybe he should cut the toddler some slack.

Wait a minute. John knew what was going on here. But his anger had already disappeared. Sherlock had achieved what he wanted.

The young boy smiled because he knew that John was no longer mad at him. Sherlock knew how to use his cuteness to his advantage. John's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He read the text.

_How is he doing?_

_-Mycroft_

The elder Holmes had only been gone an hour. But maybe the whole kidnapping thing really did scare him. John could understand why he was checking up on them. He typed up a reply.

_Fine. Just got him some juice._

_-John_

John felt his pants being tugged again. He looked down to see Sherlock holding an empty cup.

"What do I do with this?" he asked.

John set the cup of grape juice down on the table close by and took the empty cup from Sherlock. The blond haired man went to place it in a sink. His phone buzzed again.

_Good. Make sure he goes to bed before I get back. You can do that, can't you?_

_-Mycroft_

John's eye twitched. Now he had to make Sherlock go to sleep? He couldn't get the guy to eat even when he was an adult.

He looked at Sherlock and saw the toddler rubbing his eyes. It was starting to get dark outside. Maybe it was better to at least try.

John kneeled down so he was closer to eye level with Sherlock.

"Hey, thirty minutes before bedtime, alright?"

Sherlock shook his head vigorously.

"No! I want to stay up," he exclaimed.

"For how long?" asked John.

"Forever."

This wasn't good. How was John supposed to make sure Sherlock went to bed on time? He wanted Mycroft to trust him with Sherlock. John knew that he was about the only person who wanted Sherlock back to normal. He was Sherlock's only hope now.

John stood up.

"How's this? If you don't go to bed in thirty minutes, I won't play pirates with you ever again."

"No!" Sherlock appeared mortified.

The doctor smiled knowingly. So that was all he had to do. Now that Sherlock was thinking like a kid, he was easier to deal with.

But, of course, John still wanted him back to normal. Back to the stubborn, conceded, annoying, smug-

Maybe it was better that he was a three year old.

No. John inwardly shook the idea off. He couldn't let himself think that it was actually better this way.

"Then do we have a deal?" he asked Sherlock.

Sherlock grumbled angrily.

"Your nose is too big, stinky."

"My nose is...what?" John felt himself at a loss.

"You're stinky! I want to play pirates but I want to stay up too," Sherlock complained.

John sighed. The toddler was pouting up at him. The doctor's eyes became stern.

"Well if I'm so stinky, then maybe I should make you go to bed now."

"No! No, don't," pleaded Sherlock.

One of Mycroft's employees came up and started washing the cup in the sink. He didn't look at John or Sherlock. The doctor stared at him curiously. Mycroft wasn't hurting for cash at all, was he?

He turned his attention back to the toddler. However, Sherlock had disappeared. Confused, John looked around. He turned to the man who was cleaning.

"Hey, have you seen where he went?"

The man didn't look up from what he was doing.

"No, Mom. I don't need college," he said it like he was in a trance, "I'm going to become a rock star. My music will be a hit, I'm telling you."

The man finished cleaning and left the room. John stared after him.

Okaaay. It was probably better not to talk to that guy again.

John had to find Sherlock himself. The doctor left the kitchen and looked around in the library. Maybe Sherlock found an interesting book on illegal drugs or something. However, the boy was nowhere to be found.

Giving up in the library, John went to look in one of Mycroft's ten living rooms. Was John jealous of Mycroft's house? Maybe a little...

And was that a helicopter in the corner of the room? Rich git.

John spotted Sherlock engrossed in the telly. He was watching some sort of children's show about a sponge named Bob. John couldn't understand cartoons nowadays.

The doctor sat down on the couch next to Sherlock. The toddler didn't seem to notice him coming in. John peered down at him.

"Off to bed after this is over, okay?" he hoped that Sherlock wouldn't put up a fight.

Sherlock looked up at him. His eyes were drooping and John knew that he wouldn't last much longer.

"No, I'm going to stay up forever," Sherlock insisted, causing John to sigh to himself.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was out like a light. John gently picked him up. He had to ask one of the employees where Sherlock's room was. It was so easy to get lost in this house.

Once he was in the familiar bedroom, John set Sherlock down underneath the covers of his bed. Sherlock stirred once before relaxing.

"I'm going to be a pirate. And then the world won't call me...a freak," Sherlock whispered while half asleep.

His words struck John cold. Did he remember people calling him a freak? Was that why he wanted to be a pirate? John knew that Anderson wasn't the first to call Sherlock that.

The doctor was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Mycroft coming up behind him. The elder Holmes smiled at the sleeping boy.

"How was he?" he asked in a whisper.

"He was good. He slept after watching some Spongebob," John told him.

"Oh no. Tell me he's not watching that," Mycroft sighed.

"It got him to sleep, didn't it?"

Mycroft went over to a door that John hadn't opened yet. John assumed that it went to the closet. However, when Mycroft opened the door, John saw a whole other bedroom inside. The room was at least twice the size of John's bedroom in the flat.

"I was hoping you would sleep here. Sherlock won't disturb you. There's books and a telly inside," Mycroft offered.

John knew that Mycroft was worried.

"It's alright. I won't leave him," he assured the older brother.

Mycroft nodded that he understood. Sherlock yawned in his sleep.

"I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll see you two in the morning," Mycroft looked at Sherlock once more before he left the room.

John went inside his assigned bedroom and began reading a teenage romance about werewolves. Not...uh...that he liked that sort of thing. It was just all he could think of doing.

He was halfway through his book when he heard some sort of noise coming from Sherlock's room. He rushed over to find the toddler tossing and turning. Sherlock sat up with wide eyes. He looked at John in confusion.

"John? What's going on? Why am I in a children's room? Where's Moriarty? I don't remember anything."


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock was looking around the room. John stared at him, stunned. Did Sherlock remember being an adult? Did he remember Moriarty capturing him?

"This is the same room I was in before. Mycroft put me in here, didn't he?" Sherlock turned to his friend.

John nodded his head. He didn't trust his voice right now. Sherlock was back.

"You...you're thinking like an adult again," was all he could say.

Sherlock blinked in confusion.

"Of course I'm thinking like an adult. I've always been thinking like an adult," he insisted.

The doctor took a hesitant step forward, as if he was afraid that moving too quickly could accidently cause Sherlock to start thinking like a kid again.

"You have? Then why have you been acting like a kid?" he asked.

This caught Sherlock off guard. The toddler hopped out of bed and looked up at John.

"I've been acting like a kid? What do you mean? I don't remember how I got into this room or how I got away from Moriarty. I've been having these gaps in memory ever since I shrunk. Are you saying I've been humiliating myself by acting like a snot-nosed ankle biter?"

John suddenly laughed. Secretly, even he thought Sherlock had been acting cute at times. But he didn't dare tell his friend that.

"Yeah. But if you're back, maybe we can figure out a way to turn you back to normal? I don't think Mycroft really wants you to be an adult."

"What do you mean?" asked Sherlock.

John scratched the back of his head in thought. How was he supposed to tell Sherlock his theory?

"It's just that, every time I mention getting you back to normal, he either changes the subject or brushes it off. If I didn't know any better I would think that he actually likes you like this."

Sherlock was silent for a long time. John watched as the toddler paced around the room, thinking. Suddenly, Sherlock looked up at his friend.

"Where's Mycroft now?"

"He went to bed," John told him.

Sherlock nodded that he understood.

"Then we can't risk making a move yet. If we do, he might catch us. If he really doesn't want to help, then we'll have to find a way to change me back ourselves."

"But how are we going to do that?" John asked.

Sherlock suddenly blinked and looked at John as if he had only just realized something.

"Why are you even here? Did I ask for you to spend the night while I was thinking like a child?"

John explained how it was Mycroft's idea that the doctor stayed with Sherlock at all times. Sherlock's eyes lit up.

"Then we have a chance. Let's go to bed and make our move once Mycroft's gone. You can take me back to our flat and I'll concoct something-"

"You've already tried that, remember? I think it's too dangerous," John insisted.

"We have to try again," Sherlock sighed, "If at first you don't succeed. Come on, John. I need you to help me."

He didn't like this idea at all. But John also didn't like the idea of keeping Sherlock as a toddler. He knew Mycroft wasn't the enemy but the elder Holmes was still getting in the way.

John looked into Sherlock's pleading eyes. It would be better once he was an adult again. Sherlock was so cute it was dangerous.

"Alright. I'll make up some excuse to the servants and we'll go back to the flat. But it better work this time, Sherlock."

The toddler smiled.

"Thank you so much, John. Goodnight. Go back to reading your teenage supernatural romance novel."

John's face turned bright red.

"What? I wasn't reading anything like that!"

"Please, John," Sherlock waved his hand in dismissal, "You always get that look when you're ashamed of something. And I did happen to notice that book on your bed. Don't try to deny it."

John glared at his friend. Sherlock wasn't fazed. The toddler went back to bed. John yawned once and realized that he was getting tired too.

"Alright. Goodnight, Sherlock," he said.

"Goodnight. Don't let me down tomorrow," Sherlock still sounded very tired.

x

"Sherlock? Wake up. Wake up, Sherlock," a gentle voice called out, snapping Sherlock awake.

The toddler looked up. Mycroft was smiling down at him. Sherlock suppressed the urge to sigh to himself. He couldn't blow his cover.

"I have a surprise for you, Sherlock. Let's get you dressed and go downstairs," Mycroft walked over to the drawer.

The elder Holmes grabbed some clothes. Sherlock got out of his embarrassing car bed. Mycroft came over with a plain white t-shirt and some loose-fitting jeans. Sherlock held out his hands, causing Mycroft to arch an eyebrow.

"I'm not giving you these clothes. You're too young to dress yourself," he told him.

Uh. What?

Surely Sherlock misunderstood.

There was no way in the world that Mycroft was suggesting that he helped dress him. Sherlock backed away slowly.

"That...that's okay, 'Croft," he had to stay cute, "I can change myself. Honest. I'm a big kid."

Mycroft shook his head. He offered a smile.

"You let me change you before. But if you're shy, I'll have someone else change you. Is that okay?"

"Why can't I change myself?" demanded Sherlock.

"I told you already. You're too young. I'm going to get your surprise ready. The nice lady will change you and bring you downstairs. Alright?" Mycroft didn't wait for Sherlock to answer. He sent a text and about a minute later a young lady came into the room.

Mycroft left and the woman diligently dressed Sherlock. The toddler was flustered but at least it was better than his brother changing him.

And did Mycroft actually say that Sherlock let him change him before? Sherlock felt a chill go down his spine. The horrors of being a toddler.

John was still asleep. His stupid vampire novel was covering his eyes. Sherlock had known all along that those novels were only good for putting people to sleep.

The young lady smiled at Sherlock.

"You're going to love your surprise. Follow me, sweetheart."

Sherlock let her take him downstairs. The toddler was deep in thought while he was walking down the steps. He had no idea what Mycroft had planned. Sherlock was going to get John and go back to the flat the minute the stupid surprise was over and Mycroft left for work.

The woman took him to a big room with a couch. Mycroft was sitting down. Someone else was with him. Sherlock's eyes widened in shock.

"M-mum?"

The woman was beautiful even though she looked a lot older than the last time Sherloock was three years old. She came up to the toddler and hugged him.

"There you are. Mycroft told me everything. I was so very worried about you. I know you like detective work but-"

"Mother," Mycroft came up to her, "He doesn't remember being an adult."

Why did he invite their mother to see his humiliation? Had Mycroft no shame? Their mother let go of Sherlock and smiled at her eldest son.

"I'm sorry. I totally forgot," she turned her attention back onto Sherlock, "It's been so long since I got to cuddle you. Do you want to go to the movies with me? There's this fun little film about a tiger and a lamb."

Of all the things good and holy, why did Sherlock have to deal with one thing after another? But he couldn't blow his cover. Just last long enough to endure this, he told himself.

Sherlock put up his best cute look.

"But I want to spend the day with John," he told her.

Sherlock's mother looked hurt, making the detective feel guilty. Damn his mother for being so sweet. Mycroft was looking at Sherlock disapprovingly and for once Sherlock felt like he deserved it. Upsetting their mother was the absolute last thing that he wanted to do.

"I'm sorry, Mummy. I want to spend time with you. Can we go to the zoo?"

Anything was better than that infernal tiger and lamb. Both Mycroft and their mother's face lit up in delight. Their mother nodded.

"I would love to go to the zoo with you. We can see all the pretty flamingos. I'll pack us up something to eat and we'll go there," she sounded really excited.

Sherlock knew he shouldn't wait too long to try to change back. But he supposed letting his mother baby him for a little while wouldn't hurt. Mycroft ruffled Sherlock's hair and Sherlock bit back an angry growl.

"I'm glad you two are going to spend some time together. I have to go to work, so I can't join the family. But I'll see you two at dinner this evening."

Their mother sighed.

"You work so hard, Mycroft. You've got that from your father. Sherlock and I will miss seeing you."

"Don't worry. I've already gone to the zoo with Sherlock," he turned to Sherlock, "Be on your best behavior now. Okay?"

"Okay," Sherlock stated.

It was only after he reached the zoo with his mother did Sherlock had a thought. Didn't Mycroft want John with him at all times to protect him? So why didn't he have John go with them?


	17. Chapter 17

"Look at those pretty flamingos. Aren't they just adorable?" his mother asked, smiling down at him.

Sherlock tried his best to look interested. His entire family were in love with those stupid pink animals except for him. His father bought a bunch of those flamingo lawn decorations from the U.S. He wasn't even kidding. His father bought a ton. Mummy and Mycroft had approved of his decision but Sherlock cringed at the £1000 mistake his father made. Honestly, who needed that many tacky decor?

Sherlock offered a smile at his mother.

"They're so pink. I like how they're pink. But I'm a boy. Are there any blue ones?" just act cute and naive. Cute and naive.

It did the trick. His mother giggled at how unbelievably adorable he was being. Hearing her laugh like that made Sherlock's heart swell. Oh, what the heck. Might as well make her happy and continue being cute.

"Can we have lunch now?" he asked with big blue eyes.

"Of course, sweetie. There was a few benches nearby. We can have our lunch and if you eat most of it Mummy will buy you some biscuits."

Treats really sounded good right now. Sherlock didn't know why he was so excited of the prospect of sweets. But now he really, really wanted to make sure he ate enough of his lunch.

He suddenly forgot all about his mission of changing back to normal. Being here with his mum was just so...fun. His mother took him and opened her basket.

Sherlock managed to eat enough to satisfy her. She brought him to the nearest stand and got him a nice, big cookie. The sugar danced in his three-year-old tastebuds. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed something so simple.

They looked around some more. Sherlock wanted to pet the elephants but his mother lightly scolded him for trying to get inside the cage. The lions looked so cool. He was so happy that he got to see their cute cubs. Sherlock was even lucky enough to see penguins swimming in a giant tank. The way they swam with their flippers extended made them look like they were flying.

He had no idea when he fell asleep. One minute he was rubbing his eyes and riding back home with his mother in the back of the car, and the next he woke up while she was carrying him in her arms.

He looked around. They were definitely in Mycroft's house, though which part of it he didn't know. She patted his back when she felt him stir.

"Hey. You took a short, little nap sweetie. Did you have fun at the zoo?" she asked very kindly.

"Yes Mummy," he responded with a yawn, "Thank you for taking me."

"You're so sweet," she said and gently put him down.

Sherlock wanted to play now. He wished he had that toy sword that Moriarty gave him so he could play pirates. Mycroft could easily buy him one, so Sherlock figured he would ask him the next time he saw him.

But it was a tad inconvenient. He wanted to play with a sword now. And Mycroft was still at work.

The door suddenly opened. John came in, looking disheveled and tired. The doctor's eyes widened when they spotted Sherlock. Sherlock waved at him.

"Sherlock! There you are. I woke up and couldn't find you anywhere. Then I get a text from Mycroft saying that you went to the zoo with your mum. I don't understand! Didn't he want me to-"

"Hello. Are you John?" Sherlock's mother greeted.

Startled, John's turned his eyes on her. He didn't even notice that she was there.

"Uh. Yeah. Are you-"

"Yes. I'm his mother," she answered with pride.

Sherlock took a step closer to John.

"Croft didn't tell you? It was so neat, John! I got to see flamingos."

John was confused at first, then he realized that this all must be an act. Right, Sherlock was keeping the fact that he was thinking like an adult a secret.

"That's wonderful," John said, thinking he was playing along, "Do you want to go with me to the flat? You know. To see your old house?"

"No. I wanna' play pirates instead. Can you be the damsel in distress again?" Sherlock asked.

John frowned. Something wasn't right. Why didn't Sherlock say yes? Mrs. Holmes smiled.

"I'm sure you two would love to play together. That trip to the zoo wore me out. Can I ask you to look after him, John? While I rest my tired bones? I'm afraid that I'm not as young as I used to be."

John agreed, still bewildered by how Sherlock was acting. When she left, he leaned into his ear.

"Hey, what's going on Sherlock? Why are you acting like you're still thinking like a kid?"

Sherlock laughed.

"You're so silly, John. Silly and funny. I am a kid."

The doctor's heart sunk. Every time he thought that he was going to get the real Sherlock back, something always got in their way. There was nothing he could do but wait it out until Sherlock was thinking like an adult once more.

He played pirates with the toddler. Sherlock was having a lot of fun. Afterwards they watched some cartoons. Around dinner time Mycroft came back. He smiled at his mother and Sherlock. They were sitting at the table with John.

"Hello. How did you two enjoy the zoo?" he asked.

"It was really fun!" Sherlock exclaimed with a grin.

"Yes. It was wonderful," agreed their mother, "He even ate most of his lunch."

Mycroft beamed at him.

"Good boy, Sherlock. I trust Mummy rewarded you?"

"She gave me a biscuit."

"That's nice to hear," Mycroft took a seat at the head of the table, "I hope everyone's in the mood for pasta. How was your day John?"

John frowned.

"It was better once I knew Sherlock was safe," he said bitterly.

Mycroft's pleasant smile didn't falter at all.

"I'm sorry. I thought you got my text."

"I got _a_ text. But I wasn't sure it was from you. What if Moriarty took Sherlock and your phone? I wouldn't know. I tried calling but you wouldn't answer!"

"I'm sorry," Mycroft apologized once more, "I was so busy all day. I promise that next time you will know he is in safe hands.

The food came by butlers carrying silver plates. It was the best Italian food that John had ever ate. Sherlock picked at his noodles with a fork. With a little encouraging from both Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes, he ate some of his food.

"Mycroft. Can I talk to you?" John asked after dinner when they were alone.

Mycroft arched an eyebrow. He nodded his consent and led John to a private room. When he offered him a seat, John refused. Mycroft had a feeling that John wasn't pleased with him.

"Is this about not letting you know where Sherlock was? Look, I'm sorry. It was irresponsible of me."

John glowered at him.

"Did you, by chance, see anything last night?" he asked Mycroft.

The other man frowned at John's question.

"What do you mean?"

John should've remembered that Sherlock's room had hidden cameras for the toddler's protection. He must have been so excited that Sherlock was thinking like an adult that he completely forgot about them. He had a theory and he was pretty sure that he was right.

"Did you see anything on those cameras?"

Mycroft scratched his chin.

"No. I was in bed."

"Then did anyone else see something and tell you about it the next morning?" John pressed on.

"I'm sure that I don't know what you mean. Was there something that I missed?"

John sighed. Mycroft wasn't making this any easier.

"Sherlock started thinking like his old self again. We were talking about trying to get him back to normal last night."

"Really?" Mycroft asked in feigned surprise.

John glared.

"I think you knew this already," he accused.

Mycroft gave him a knowing smirk.

"And why would you think this?"

"You can't deny it anymore. You don't want Sherlock back to normal. You want to keep him a kid. Probably as a desperate attempt to make up for lost time and start your relationship over. I think you somehow knew that him spending time with your mother would make him think like a toddler again. Don't you see this is wrong? Sherlock needs to be an adult!"

Mycroft casually walked around the room until he was looking at the wall and not at John.

"Let's say...hypothetically, that I _did_ know. And let's say that I did want him to stay a kid. What exactly makes that so wrong? Why does Sherlock have to be an adult?"

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had Mycroft gone mad? And yet John himself couldn't think of enough reasons why they should turn him to normal. Except-

"Moriarty is still after him. He can only handle himself as an adult," he insisted.

Mycroft was prepared for that answer. He turned to the doctor with a very serious expression.

"I will protect him until he grows up again. It will be fine, John. Sherlock is safe with me."

So he was finally confessing, was he? John had known it all along. He was Sherlock's only friend now.

"You know what triggers his mind then? How it switches from adult to child mentality? Tell me how it works," John demanded.

"Sorry. No can do. John, look. I'm not the bad guy. I just want to make sure Sherlock is happy. I just want to...spend some time with him."

John frowned. He could understand Mycroft's desire to bond with his little brother. But this was still wrong.

Wasn't it?


End file.
